


Home is wherever I’m with you

by chaoticisms



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, and a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26987137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticisms/pseuds/chaoticisms
Summary: The long road to finding it.
Relationships: Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Yo Yo Rodriguez, Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Phil Coulson & Melinda May & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson/Melinda May, Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	Home is wherever I’m with you

**Author's Note:**

> in honor of the two-month anniversary of the series finale, I have yet again another fix-it fic
> 
> title inspo
> 
> _“home, let me come home_  
>  _Home is wherever I'm with you_  
>  _home, yes, I am home_  
>  _Home is when I'm alone with you”_
> 
> _~ Home, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros_

_home (n.) it’s a feeling; where love resides, memories are created, friends and family belong and laughter never ends._

i. 

**Day 33**

Phil has a thing for shot glasses. 

It’s a little unconventional, he knows, but it holds too much sentimental value for him to invest in a postcard or a - Gods forbid - keychain collection. Every city he goes to, he gets a shot glass. 

He’s keenly aware that it’s the most stereotypical dad thing he could do, and Daisy is never letting him live it down, but his eyes always gravitate to the trinkets shelf at gas stations. He just can’t help it. 

He never particularly uses them nor does it serve any purpose to him, but May’s the first person who ever got him a shot glass after one of her first solo undercover missions in Bulgaria. It was a generic little thing, looked like it was from one of their local _Hudson News-_ type chains. 

It still sits in the glovebox of Lola as a reminder of his final destination. 

He thinks fondly of a vague memory when she let herself into his apartment with a key he left under a loose brick just for her while he was at work. She left a simple note in Sharpie on a napkin she stole from his kitchen that sits in his glove box. The writing is faint and worn from the years, but he can still read the outline of the ink. “Don’t read too much into it.” 

He did. He still does. And, it still means everything to him.

After that, whenever they went on separate missions, they had a competition on who could bring back the most audacious shot glass and add it to their collection. There were only 15 total between them because it was rare they did missions alone, but now that he’s alone exploring the world, he likes to mail her a shot glass from every city. 

At first he isn’t sure if May would appreciate the gesture for lack of a better term. _Am I infringing on her memories with her Coulson? What Coulson am I? Am I crossing a line? Does she accept this me as Coulson?_

He’s rattled with conflicting emotions for days until he finally called Daisy a few days ago. 

_“Coulson?”_

_“Dais! I know you’re busy and we don’t have much time, but I just-” Daisy cuts him off before he starts rambling and they waste time they don’t have._

_“A.C.! It’s fine, just tell me what’s up.” Her voice is animated, and he gets hit with a wave of nostalgia when she calls him A.C._

_He sighs. “I...I want to send May shot glasses from the places I visit. It was something we did…well...it was just a stupid thing we- Coulson- did at the Academy.” He stutters out, pathetically he would say._

_She pauses at his delineation but doesn’t push, “Okay, what’s the question?”_

_“Should I do it?” He groans, audibly stressed. She lets out a bellowing laugh. “You set up an intergalactic call with me to ask if you should send May...presents? What- Daniel, I am definitely making fun of him for this! No! It’s not cute, it's hilarious! Coulson, Daniel says it’s cute and I think-.” She stops mid-sentence because she can’t control her laughter. He can hear Daniel in the back apologizing._

_He cuts her off before she’s incoherent, “This isn’t a joke!” He exclaims._

_“Yes, Coulson, yes you should send her shot glasses. You are still Coulson, our Coulson. Throw in a note too, but please PLEASE no dad jokes on them.”_

_“Wha- What? Jokes? Me? Never!” He says like she’s suggested the most incredulous act._

_“Coulson.” She says deadpanned._

_“Yes, Daisy. Duly noted. I know we’re almost out of time, so Daisy, stay safe, tell Kora and Daniel I say hi. Thank you for your help.” He sighs, knowing their time’s up and he already misses the sound of her voice._

_“And, Coulson? She’ll love it. Don’t overthink it. Also, a bit of advice? Daughter to father? Call her. Keep up with her. Don’t give me the “I’m giving her space” excuse. I think three decades, you dying, her dying, being an LMD, then in a TV, and now back as - well, this. Don’t screw this up, I don’t want to have to pick sides, okay? Great! Love you, bye!” She speeds through, voice crackling as they lose connection._

_The line disconnects but he whispers “Bye, Dais.” to his empty car. He looks at the small red, white and blue box neatly taped with her Virginia address neatly written on top. He sighs, picks it up, and braces himself for the cold that’s numbed his face as the biting cold chills all ten of his fingers that remind him he’s more human than not._

-

He walks across the cobblestone path that guides to the small cottage meant for SHIELD hideouts, but Mack graciously lets him occupy it for the week he camps out there. He misses them - the team. They’re his home, his family, and he’s not going to lie that he feels a little lost without them - without her. He blows into his hands to spread some warmth. Mack sometimes calls for a consult, and he sees Alya’s face every few months, but it’s not the same. He smiles at the irony that he misses having a solid grounding in the Bus. 

As if she could feel his emotions from across the world, his phone buzzes in his pocket already knowing who it is without looking at the Caller ID. 

“Bulgaria?” She says without hesitation. 

“Hi, May. Yeah, I’m doing great, thanks for asking! How are you?” She laughs, which catches him off guard, and he swears he hasn’t heard that sweet saccharine melody in years. He’s a hopeless romantic, so it comes to his ears like saccharine and he doesn’t want it to stop. Even if it is at the expense of his gifts.

“Your first stop was Bulgaria.”

“To be fair, my first stop was Coulson Academy.” He smirks. The building at the time was mostly completed, and Melinda practically threw him out, aghast that he would foil her plans of surprising him. 

“Phil.”

“I had some assets to clear out, and I had never been.” 

He doesn’t have any assets. 

“Plus, not really bothered by cold weather anymore.” 

He’s definitely bothered. 

“What? Your hardware doesn’t get frostbite?” 

He rolls his eyes as if she could see him. 

“So, tell me about your day.” 

If he’s being honest with himself, which is a rarity, he just misses her voice. When he tells her that he wants to explore the world to enjoy the chaos of normalcy, she snorts. She doesn’t think he’ll last more than 24 hours, he doesn’t want to tell her she’s right. She’s chatty oddly enough while he stays silent, drinking in every word she says like it’s the last time he’ll hear her voice. 

The moment he left the team to reflect, he wanted to run right back to them. He’s still struggling to accept this version of himself, wondering if it’ll ever be enough for them, for himself, and especially for Melinda. He knows she needs to be alone to process. She doesn’t need him to complicate her emotions, and he’s not apprehensive for a year away. They gave themselves a year to figure themselves out, figure out what they meant to each other, and go from there. 

The problem’s that he doesn’t need a year to figure things out. 

“How’s Bulgaria?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“So I guess I was right.” 

He smiles, “You always are.” 

ii. 

**Day 84**

Melinda wants a dog. 

She uses Phil as her own personal assistant for weeks before adopting the poor sap. He spends weeks searching for the perfect dog, one that meets all her criteria and sends her options. He compares to his own personal list before sending her dogs, but he doesn’t tell her that. He can’t get ahead of himself. 

He thinks after three months, his itching to run to Virginia would subside. It doesn’t. He calls her more than he likes to admit, throws his focus into everything she’s doing. He helps with research questions and frequents local libraries across the globe picking up select books to add the collection in her home. He says he’s traveling the world to give her space, but somehow he’s still smothering her. 

Last week, they’re coming up with clever midterm questions. The week before that he’s helping her pick out home decor. Now, he’s researching the perfect dog to fit into her life. Without him. 

He tries to convince himself that this is enough. 

She wouldn’t go to a breeder, she - yes, she - has to be from a pound. He isn’t going to lie, his heart swells when she says she wants a girl because he’s secretly been hoping for a girl too. She wants to raise the dog, so she had to be young.

“Mel, I found the perfect dog.” 

“Did you?” She quips, a smile tugging at her lips at his animated voice.

“Yes!” He’s so proud of himself, she doesn’t want to tell him that she’s already found a dog. Maybe he’ll make a good case. “Meets all the criteria. She doesn’t have a name, but they call her Lucky. Under 25 lbs. 10 weeks old. 7 miles away. Has all of her shots. Oh! And she has the most beautiful golden coat. And her description is so unbelievably sweet. Mel, I think this is the one!” As expected, he does, and she’s already running through a list of items she’ll need for her new puppy. 

She has a name in mind but doesn’t want to scare Phil off yet. Anytime they take one step forward “Phil, you’re putting a lot of thought into this, aren’t you?” 

He laughs nervously, he’s so been caught with his ulterior motive. He sheepishly shrugs knowing she couldn’t see his guilt-ridden face before clearing his throat to continue absent of any longing. “I always wanted a dog once I retired.” He decides to say. He doesn’t expand and they fall into a comfortable yet tenacious silence. Neither had a reason to break it as Melinda ponders on his words. 

He knows she needs time, they need time before they talk about the future. Hell, he would understand if she doesn’t want her in his life and he takes every call like a blessing. He hears a soft sigh before she opens her mouth. He can’t help but feel he’s messed up. She doesn’t want to talk to him anymore, he triggered something in her, but he buries that with the smile he hopes she can hear through his words. 

“Well, nothing’s stopping you now.” 

“I’ve always loved the name Artemis-” He starts, but he hears Melinda talk over him “I’ve always loved the name Peggy.”

They both chuckle, hers more earnest than his. Phil is stunned, he doesn’t trust his voice to speak coherently; she says she wants to name the dog Peggy. His favorite name. 

The memory of her picking up his hand and piercing his heart when she says she feels nothing is still an open wound he’s trying to sew up. Yet, she’s on the phone wanting to name her new life with him. For him. 

“Yeah?” His voice softens. 

“Yeah.” 

He asks her to sit on the phone with him for just a minute. He just needs to hear her calm breaths, just for a minute. She doesn’t ask him why, but a smile creeps up onto her face unwillingly. She’s still figuring out what she is, what they are, but she can’t stop herself. She thinks maybe this is the first step to acceptance of what they’ve become, but part of her hopes he would want to put down roots with her. 

“Well then, I guess it’s settled.” 

iii. 

**Day 176**

Phil’s running. 

He finds the irony in it. For the last three decades, he’s been running from everything. Death. Love. Family. Now, he’s a mesh of feelings and emotions of his past self and powered through an electrical socket, yet he can never stop running. Some things never change, he guesses.

He tries tai-chi at first, even using Facetime for instructions. It just wouldn’t stick, so he starts running. He likes passing through quiet streets as the sun touches the horizon in the morning. He feels the sweat cover the nape of his neck as cold air bites into his lungs and it’s the closest thing to human he’s felt in a year.

He passes through a village named Caldes de Montbui near Barcelona of twenty or so adobe houses built on the bank of a river of clear that runs along a bed of polished stones, which are enormous like prehistoric eggs. It’s a ghost town nestled in the middle of rolling hills of yellow grass overlooking the Balearic Sea. He pops into a small, stuffy store that’s crowded with antiques.

It’s a glorious hotch-potch of cultures and fashions through the ages from ancient Moorish art to modern Catholic designs, and his eyes land on a small shelf of glass shimmering by the doorway. Almost instinctively, his phone vibrates in his pocket and he places it between his ear and shoulder as he scans all the pieces. 

“May?”

“Is this a bad time?” She hesitates before answering him. He’s confused 

He shakes her out of her thoughts, “No, no! I’m just walking around the city. Just actually popped into a store. Is everything okay? Is Peggy okay?” 

“Peggy is fine. Great, actually.” When she initially calls to tell him she adopts Peggy, he almost puts in the coordinates to her house. He’s always secretly imagined a life with her, their two dogs - Artemis and Peggy, and a baby girl. It’s a risk naming her Peggy, and in her own way, she’s telling him that it’s okay to come to visit. But he knows she’s not ready. He still hears the slight resistance in her voice, so he makes up a bullshit lie both can see through. It’s easier this way. 

“That’s good. I knew she would be perfect.” He smiles. “What’s going on, then?”

“I think I just miss everyone.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s weird being an empty nester. It’s been a long time.” 

“We did good, Mel. Raised some strong kids. They’re all off saving the world so we don’t have to.” 

The shopkeeper eyes him, asking him if he needs help. He waves his hand and declines, returning back to the corner that’s kept his attention since he walked in.

She hums in response, absorbing his words. “It’s good to hear your voice, Phil.” 

“I miss you, too. For what it’s worth.” He sighs.

“I’ll see you soon, though? Almost a year.” 

“It has been, hasn’t it?” His eyes scan over the shelf once again and see it. Bingo. Engraved on the side of a small shot glass in an almost cursive scripture he guesses is based off of Moorish calligraphy is ‘Caldes de Montbui.’

“It has.” She hums in agreement. He thinks about the last time they kissed on the beach. He doesn’t remember the feeling, but he can see the waves hitting the shore as they both bathe under the sun with no care in the world left. Except May held her breath anytime his breathing faltered from the baseline, and with only memories left, he notices every movement of hers was calculated, terrified of losing him. He did that to her. 

“I promise, Mel, I’ll see you soon.” He wants to see her, he wants to hold her in his arms as he remembers in the first night they kissed. He wants to know the feeling of her hair between his fingers when he deepens a kiss. He wants to feel her skin under his so he doesn’t have to live off of a memory stick feeding him stories. He wants to make new ones. He wants his own memories with her. 

“I’d like that. And Phil?” She questions. 

“Yeah.” 

“I really liked the Banff one. Think I’ve got a collection now.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh. “I thought you might. Okay, I’ve gotta get back to Lola. Talk soon?” 

“Soon. Bye, Phil.” 

“Bye, Melinda.”

iv. 

**Day 282**

Alexandria starts to feel more like home, Melinda thinks. 

It’s been almost a year since she invests in a house - a future - a feeling so foreign yet it’s the easiest decision. As she drives towards the Academy, she finds herself outside her old home with Andrew. It’s on the way, she reasons with herself. 

She parks her car by the mailbox and sits quietly inside as she observes the closest thing she had to a white picket fence life. 

The ornate chandelier still hangs at the entryway, and it’s the first thing she recognizes as her own touches. It’s an old house surrounded with overgrown bushes, ivy, and vines wrapping around window frames. The paint’s peeling, but the memories it contains don't fall off so easily. 

They come in fragments. As if her memories play like a haunted trick, she remembers Sunday dinners with Phil and Andrew after undercover missions. She swears she can still hear her laugh as Phil recounts Melinda filling his shampoo bottle with temporary blue hair dye. 

She shakes her head, _then life happened._

Melinda smiles at the small rose garden that is still just as loved as she had kept it. She realizes she doesn't recognize any of the families surrounding her home, and she feels out of place. She starts her car again, wishing she could relish a little longer in the nostalgia. Her car starts beeping frantically, and the only Caller ID that frequents her phone pops up. She clicks it absentmindedly. 

“Hi, Mel.” 

“Hi.”

“Did you get my box?” 

“Yes, Phil. It’s sitting in my car right now. It’s heavier than the last ones.” 

“Have you opened it?” 

“Well, the first one. Singapore? See anything you like?”

“Went to the Botanic Gardens. Oh! I went to the coolest little bookstore wedged between this little tea and mahjong spot. I didn’t even try to play, I didn’t want to get my ass whooped. We should come back here together sometime.” He says before realizing. His eyes go wide, maybe he’s said too much. He’s pushed the envelope too far. 

“After Ireland, though. Right?” She questions, her voice is light. 

He’s silent on the other line, and she wonders if but she can still hear his faint breaths over the speaker. He utters a soft _yes_ in agreement, but the question about the box still lingers. 

He always leaves a little note. It helps her accept this new version of himself. She runs her fingers along with the ink because it’s so familiar, but she keeps thinking how she’s buried that handwriting twice. This Phil is still her Phil, he’s just different, she convinces herself. 

“Did you open the second box?” She nods her head before realizing he can’t see her. She reaches back and hastily grabs the box. Her wrist cracks a little because it lays heavier than she expects. She grabs her key and slices through the boxing tape before she hears the sloshing of liquid in a glass bottle. A note lays atop the bottle, and it lingers like a tattoo on the tips of her fingers. _I think it’s time we open that bottle of Haig._

Her hand strokes the neck of the bottle She lets out a soft laugh, he is still always the one to live in the past. “You don’t have to twist my arm.” 

He exhales as all the tension leaves his body, shoulders sagging. “I thought you didn’t do nostalgia.” 

“If the moment calls for it.”

He doesn’t say anything. “I’m in front of my old house.” She pauses, and he’s waiting for her to elaborate. She doesn’t. 

“Oh?” He tries not to sound disappointed, and quite honestly he’s surprised. “Were you thinking about buying it, is it on the market?” He asks gently, not sure how to properly ask her thoughts about her and her dead ex-husband’s old house. That house holds memories of Melinda at her brightest. In love, happy, planning for a future with a child she had always wanted. That house is what’s left of her dreams, but now they linger like a ghost haunting her skin. 

“Oh, no. There’s a cute little family that lives here. Looks a little worn, and it isn’t my taste anymore.” _You are._ She stops herself from saying it. After almost a year, she’s come to accept this Phil. He still calls her, sometimes to an annoying extent. “I just had to see it, one last time.” The longing in her voice is evident, but she tries to mask it. She misses him. She misses the Phil whom she met at the Academy. 

She misses the Phil who went to the ends of the Earth looking for her when Ratcliffe kidnapped her. She misses the Phil that cradled her so she could feel his heartbeat every night. But, she also misses this Phil, the one who accepted her, this new her, before she could accept it herself. 

“I’m sorry.” He breaks the silence. 

“You always find your way back around.” 

“I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“Don’t be. I needed time, too.” Slowly, but surely, she begins to believe this might be her Phil too. 

v. 

**Day 365**

He sees her for the first time in a year. 

It’s in the speakeasy with the rest of their team, but his eyes can't seem to leave hers. He thinks he’s better at hiding his stolen glances, but Daisy’s watching them do the same dance they’ve done for thirty years. When he glances back at her, she’s shooting daggers at him flagrantly annoyed. 

“Coulson? I love you, but grow some balls, we’re _all_ tired of watching you both do this dance.”

“It’s not that simple, Daisy.” He grumbles. 

“Yes, it is.” 

He knows Daisy’s right, but he’s afraid. He’s always afraid when it comes to her. She deserves better, she deserves someone who’s real. She deserves to be happy and move on, and he knows he can’t offer-

“Stop thinking. Stop analyzing. There is no right time. Just go for it, please. If not for yourselves, for the rest of us.” He sighs in resignation. 

“Okay.”

She perks up, expecting more pushback. “Good!” He doesn’t want to tell Daisy that Melinda and he have already...talked in their own way. He wants to let her think she’s the catalyst for their impending future just to let her have the satisfaction that she’s repairing her family. 

“And Coulson? Don’t blow it this time. Be selfish, please. May...she’s been through so much. Don’t leave her this time. I mean it. I don’t care if the world is going to shit, do not leave her alone. Again.” She says as a warning. He’s speechless -- did his pseudo-daughter just lecture him? On HIS love life? He looks down at his hands folded in his lap before smiling, Melinda and him raised some damn good kids. 

Melinda’s eyes are already skirting around the bar as she fidgets slightly in her chair. Even though she’s been teaching hundreds of cadets for a few months, she needs an adjustment period when she sees new people, or meets old ones. She’s more in control with her powers, she even says she can manage to turn it on and off when necessary in some weird meditative way. She lets the feelings Everyone is finally all there: Jemma animatedly talking with Elena, Daisy, and Fitz whilst Phil and Mack are deep in discussion about Lola’s new upgrades. 

She relaxes into her chair, watching her family converse for the first time together in a year. A hell of a year it’s been. She zones out, trying to adjust to all of the feelings radiating off of the people surrounding her. She’s surrounded by nervous and excited energy. The nerves are radiating off of Jemma as she peeks to see her biting her lip like she’s holding a secret. She hears whispers and quips about being reunited soon, and she figures Daisy is coming back to Earth to refuel soon. Maybe she’s stopping in Perthshire or the base before heading back out. Daisy hasn’t told her anything, and she pretends not to feel a dull ache within her chest. 

“Earth to Melinda?” She hears a faint voice in the background, a hand is placed on her shoulder. It’s warm, inviting, and she feels at peace with the familiar weight. 

“Hm.” She mumbles, still not quite centered to face her team. “Yeah, right. Sorry. Emotions stuff.” Phil grimaces sympathetically, but his hand doesn’t fall from her shoulder, and she doesn’t tell him to move it. 

They both fall into conversations with their kids asking them questions like it was the end of a school day. She fills Mack and Elena in on Flint’s progress, embarrassing him slightly by revealing he’s been secretly crushing on another cadet. Elena has a wicked smile on her face before she whips her phone out, probably to bombard him with questions. She tells them about new recruits, and Mack thanks her for every ounce of help she continues to give. 

Phil listens to Jemma and Fitz recount Alya’s first day of school, her recent drawings, and their stern lecture for no more presents. “I’m banning all presents. All of you. We don’t live in a mansion, we physically do not have space in our house for more stuff, got it?” 

Everyone groans, chiming in their own complaints. 

“Fitz! It’s almost Christmas” 

“I do not got it, Fitz.” 

“I personally didn’t hear that therefore expect a gift next week.” 

“I’m still sending her books.” 

“Sorry, Fitz, no can do.” 

“Zip it! No space! I’ll be sending the gifts back or they’re going in the trash!” 

“Fitz...that’s a bit harsh. What we’re trying to say is we appreciate everything you’ve given us. But, maybe just no gifts for a few months?” Jemma compromises, squeezing Fitz’s shoulder. Every grumble in agreement, just a few months. 

One by one everyone leaves the speakeasy until there are only Daisy, Phil and Melinda left. They’re all standing darting their eyes from one another unsure what to say. None of them want to say goodbye or acknowledge that they only have a few more minutes before she loses service, May has to go to class, and Coulson has to grab one last package from HQ. 

“I miss you guys. So much.” She pulls them both into a hug. Phil wraps his arms around both of them before nuzzling his head into his daughter’s shoulder. He knows this isn’t technically real, but he can feel this hug. He has his own independent memory of hugging the two most important women in his life. It floods his system with sensations that make all of Phil’s past memories feel so tangible. They feel like his own skin. “I can’t wait to see you guys soon.” 

“I’m so proud of you, Daisy.” Melinda mumbles in Daisy’s hair as her arm wraps tightly around her waist, unrelenting to let go. Melinda May isn’t affectionate nor does she make any large proclamations, but maybe this Melinda May does. She likes this new version of herself, now that she can control her powers. She deserves to revel at this moment. She may not have had a biological child, but Daisy is her and Phil’s child.

Daisy switches her lens off and disappears. It’s just Phil and Melinda left, just like how they started almost a decade ago when they built this team. The memories linger behind his eyes. The betrayal of Garrett and Ward, the pain of losing Rosalind, the fear of looking for Melinda, and the flashes of hope in between. He grabs her hand, looking up as she nods. She doesn’t say anything but rests her hand over his heart and a ghostly smile falls upon her lips. 

“Come home.” She says softly. Her voice is firm, steadfast. She’s a different person from the woman the past Phil fell in love with. She’s changed, and she knows he still loves her. Deep within her, she knows she still loves him. She’ll always love him, any version of him. 

“Okay.” 

vi.

**Day 366**

“You really want to do this? Choose this life over the other one?” 

“I think I can handle a few PTA meetings.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, “What do you think, a couple more of those?” He comes behind her enclosing his arms around her waist and lays his chin on her shoulder, swaying them back and forth. He eyes Peggy who is gnawing on a chew toy Phil sent from Italy. “Or something else.” Phil presses his nose into her hair, memorizing every strand of hair, drinking in the lavender that sashayed between his nostrils because he can’t take anything for granted. Not with their luck. The top of her cabinets adorn every shot glass he’s sent in chronological order. They look well-managed and recently dusted which makes him laugh. Only Melinda May would use shot glasses as cabinet decorations. He doesn’t immediately see them, but taped underneath is every note that came with them. His lips curve upwards involuntarily, _she kept every single one._

“Yeah, we could do a few more of those.” She sighs, leaning into his embrace. Her eyes are steady on the windows outside, watching rhythmic percussion of the blades of grass blowing by the wind. “Zumba classes?” Phil interrupts her thoughts.

“You’re pushing it.” She scoffs. 

He untangles himself from her embrace, every detail memorized to stalk out the fridge. He hums as he rummages around the shelves impressed that they’re not bare. If Phil knows anything about Melinda May, it’s that she hates cooking. Loathes it. But her fridge suggests otherwise. Tupperware with homemade food stacks each shelf. 

He sees an assortment of fresh vegetables and fruit, he assumes she’s been to the grocery store recently. “Mel? When did you learn cooking?” He muses. “I’ve had some time on my hands, and my dad’s housewarming gift was a 100-piece kitchen set. I took the hint.” She responds absentmindedly, her eyes trained on the stillness of her garden. Something’s off; she scans the area, hands reaching towards the closest object she could find which is an empty vase. 

“Phil?”

“Yeah?” Her eyes relax turning towards Phil, hands unclench the spine of the vase. She recognizes the outline of the ship immediately.

“You didn’t, by any chance, order a Zephyr to our house right?” 

_Daisy._

“‘Sup parents! Surprise! Bus kids are BACK!” Daisy exclaims as the dock lowers. She appears alone, but they see Jemma and Fitz trailing behind her, Alya in tow. 

“Phil, did you plan this?” May asks him pointedly. She’s not angry, but a heads up would’ve been nice. “No! I swear on Captain America, I had no idea. I don’t even know how Daisy knew I was here!” His eyes panicked slightly, but her eyes twinkle with mirth as she snorts at his expense. Their eyes simultaneously flicker towards the commotion now surrounding them. 

Fitz lugs three small duffle bags on his back, and Melinda realizes that they’re planning on staying with her. She’s about to head back inside to sweep their designated bedrooms, but Phil’s grip doesn’t let up. 

“Well, we didn’t have to tell Coulson...” Fitz trails off, knowing exactly why they didn’t have to contact him. Daisy glowers at him, she has worked too damn hard to get her parents back together. 

“Oh, Fitz!” Jemma swats at her husband, Alya attached to her hip, “Be quiet!” She smiles sheepishly at Daisy, hoping her apologetic eyes were enough for the moment. 

Elena has Flint in a headlock as they both walk off the Bus. “Turtleman should be here in a few hours. Being Director and al-” A shriek cuts her off. 

“OH MY GOD, MAY HAS A DOG!” 

Daisy bolts to the open door. Melinda whips around to see Daisy cradling Peggy in her arms, tears forming from what she’ll say are allergies.

“What! Why didn’t you tell us you got a dog? When did you get her? Him?!” Jemma exclaims, speeding past May’s open arms towards the puppy. “You know this would’ve been worth mentioning on our Skype calls, Melinda!” 

“She. And her name’s Peggy!” May calls out, but she doubts either of them hear her. 

Alya runs towards Phil screaming “Uncle Phil!” at the top of her lungs, and lurches at his crouched frame, tumbling into the grass. Fitz is in the grass, leveled with Phil and Alya as he picks her up and throws her in the air, her smile carefree. Elena puts a hand on Melinda’s shoulder, and she’s grateful. Her shoulders relax, 

She stops to breathe in the chaos brewing around her. Melinda May has been a lot of things - _The Cavalry, Agent, Empath, Professor -_ experienced a lot of things - _Mother, Lover, Wife_ \- but she feels something strange. Unfamiliar. It’s been nestled into her core like a Genesis, she feels her sense of self. Her lips curve upwards as her eyes light up - _home_. 

_Was this the final mission? Is this what comes when the battle is over?_ Melinda thinks. She hangs back from the commotion as her team - her family - bombard her yard and home. She loses sight of Phil, but she isn’t worried. Her family is here. 

Daisy jolts up from the front door and walks towards the Zephyr by May. “We got you a housewarming gift. Please don’t be mad.” Daisy winces in anticipation to be scolded. Surprisingly, May stays silent. 

Daisy has her arm draped across her shoulders, resting her head on top of May’s. “I know you’re strong. Stronger than all of us combined. You’ve lost so much-” Daisy’s eyes flicker around the grass before continuing “-to give us this. A family. And, you deserve one too. You deserve to be happy, and you can’t refuse this gift. Well, there’s no gift receipt for sure, and I don’t think Mack will appreciate you throwing away all of our hard work this past year. You deserve more time, you deserve a home.” She finishes, out of breath like she ran a marathon. 

She finally sees Phil lift himself off the grass, swatting at all the dirt that made a home in his jeans and she can’t help but smile at the ridiculous face he pulls when he feels the wet spot behind his knee. He starts walking in her general direction and she feels a little fuzzy. She shakes it off, there’s enough emotions swirling, her brain trying to separate her own feelings from everyone else’s. 

Fitz is already at Alya’s side, cleaning off the dirt from her legs, baby bag strapped to his side. Flint is amicably telling Elena stories about the Academy, Melinda guesses. Probably gossiping about her relationship status, too. When she sees Elena smack his shoulder and his cheeks burn red, she knows she’s right. 

She feels Phil lace his hands with hers, and she feels an immediate warmth run through her body. She gasps slightly as she looks from their intertwined hands to his face. She can _feel_ him. So, that’s what’s been tingling at her core. 

It’s barely been half an hour since she and the _new version_ of Phil was reconciling in her kitchen. She’d come to accept that version as him, willing to start a life with him, and now in front of her is the man she thought she’d lost in Tahiti. 

She doesn’t understand. Fitz is a damn good scientist. Brilliant. But, even these kinds of upgrades seem out of his grasp.

“That’s a hell of an upgrade.” 

“Not an upgrade.” 

She runs her hand down his chest and feels the ragged scar that she was accustomed to feeling. She’s buried this body, watched this body take its last breath, but here he is. Standing by her, breathing in legato beats.

“How?” Her eyes flicker from the scene in front of her to the man, the real, flesh and bone, man in front of her. She lays her hand over his heart and she feels a steady heartbeat drum against her fingertips. 

“Jemma...studying anatomy and sending that info to Daisy. Daisy stole the time drive from Fitz, I think he knew but chose to be ignorant, and replaced me with an LMD me in Tahiti, and Daisy stuck me in that pod for a few months. The other LMD me here didn’t know. They stuck him in another timeline or something. I don’t really get it. Apparently, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Jemma’s been “consulting” but it was just for me. I just woke a few days ago. And, here I am.” 

She grabs his face, cutting him off from another nervous ramble. When she kisses him it's almost like testing a theory; at first her eyes are open as she presses her lips to his, just enough to be a kiss, not enough to be difficult to back away from. But his lips are pliant against hers, his eyes immediately drifting shut, so she smiles to herself and lets hers close too as she slowly relaxes against him, her body leaning into him and her arms sliding around his neck.

It's a distracting kiss, she'll admit. Unhurried and slow in the way it builds, both of them letting it unfold naturally. It's the kind of kiss where time just sort of stretches out and in the end she's got no idea how long she's been sat there kissing him when she eventually pulls back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. He's a little glazed over, a bit stunned, and she feels pretty pleased with herself as she leans back, considering her arms still looped around him. 

“Here you are.” Melinda says. She’s not cheesy. She doesn’t believe in happy endings or second - or third, or maybe a hundred - chances. Yet, here it is. Everyone else has managed to go inside to give them some privacy, but she knows their noses are pressed up against the windowpane when she hears Peggy bark and a subsequent “Dammit, Peggy!” following it. 

Enoch said they wouldn’t be in the same room again, and to an extent he’s right. The Phil he mentioned isn’t the one standing in front of her, and with that thought she sees a black SUV pull up, undoubtedly Mack. 

The revving of the engine cuts, and the passenger and backseat doors open. A familiar British accent fills her ears and her vision blurs. When they get closer, Bobbi immediately engulfs her in a hug, cradling her head in her shoulder. Lance and Mack crowd them, and Melinda is overwhelmed. She doesn’t question how they’re here or what strings the new Director had to pull, she simply lets herself be happy. She deserves to be happy. Piece by piece, their family is finally complete. 

Melinda hears the squeals behind her from Daisy and Jemma and a thud from Fitz body slamming Hunter. Mack claps them both on the back as Elena punches Hunter in the shoulder. She spots Daisy wiping a lone tear, her eyes shining as they dart around the people surrounding her. Daisy locks her eyes with her as she and Phil stay solid in the grass in front of the house and Daisy’s nose wrinkles in contentment. Melinda could feel her happiness from there. 

“Melinda? I have one last thing.” Phil says before he pulls out a shot glass from behind his back. She doesn’t even know how that got there, so she assumes he stuffed it in his pocket. Etched around the glass is a picture of Melinda resting her chin on his shoulder, their fingers intertwined like they were a few minutes ago. Above it there are big, bold letters ‘Tahiti’ written across and inscribed at the bottom was ‘It’s a Magical Place.’ A tear escapes her eye unrelenting to her trying, and miserably failing, to center herself. Phil swipes his thumb across her cheek, wiping it away before letting their hands fall between them. 

“I love you.” He says before leading her back into the house with the family they raised. Their home. 

This is what they were fighting for. 

_Home (n.): a dwelling place together with the family; an environment offering security and happiness._

**Author's Note:**

> clearing out my drafts of WIPs I wrote post-finale, and somehow this was part of it. Not sure how rushed this is or if it makes total sense at the end 😭😭 but I hope it's not complete gibberish! Also, yes, Melinda May works through her trauma and gets to a point where she could accept herself and be with this new version of Coulson. But, the past still haunts her and she misses the fuck out of Coulson, and they both deserve a real happy ending that isn't intertwined with guilt and/or looming deaths.


End file.
